


I've always meant to say

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fluffy Ending, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Post S2, Post-Canon, apologies are made and simon learns the art of being selfless, cw: one homophobic word, maybe i wrote this mush while i was drunk, show canon only, simon has to fix himself before he can move forward, soft simon, you'll never know will you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:25:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: Simon's life has been a whirlwind since Clary became a shadowhunter and he joined the ranks of the undead. Somewhere between digging himself out of the grave and a flurry of relationships, he has lost himself.Who is Simon Lewis really?





	

 

Simon's life has been a whirlwind since Clary became a shadowhunter and he joined the ranks of the undead. Somewhere between digging himself out of the grave and a flurry of relationships, he has lost himself. 

Who is Simon Lewis really? 

 

* * *

  **[** **SIMON LEWIS]**

* * *

 For four weeks straight he does nothing but try to find an answer to the question. 

 

"I'm not a monster," he whispers to the clouded reflection. "My name is Simon Lewis and I'm...I'm _trying_. I'm trying." 

And one week later - "I'm a vampire, I drink blood and sleep in the day. I like Nicholas Sparks movies and making music, I should write some. Umm...I'm really bad at talking to people and even worse at apologizing. I'm not a good person but I think I could be, someday."

One week three days later in a spiral notebook - _My name is Simon Lewis. I'm a human being with no heartbeat. Witcher is one of the most bad ass game characters and Katy Perry is overrated. I got in trouble for throwing spitballs at a table at my own bar mitzvah but it wasn't me. They didn't believe me so Clary took the heat. She was grounded for a whole week._

 _I used to get Clary to paint my nails until the bullies at school called me gay, f ~~aggot~~. They hated me, _ I  _hated me. I ~~like girls~~ \- I like girls and boys especially Clary and Raphael. In third grade I was sent to the principal's office for writing a song about Robert St.Clair and his mom was so mad that she said we couldn't be friends anymore. I still don't understand why. _

He writes until his fingers ache, it's cathartic to see who he is in the plainest of terms. When self realization has ran it's course, he turns to the people he cares about. He will rebuild the bridges he burned in a fit of self inflicted destruction. 

 

* * *

**[ELAINE LEWIS]**  

* * *

 

He clutches the phone, hand trembling. It's 9:30 on a Saturday night and his chest feels as if someone were squeezing his lungs, choking every ounce of oxygen until he's thrashing about. He misses breathing, finals and exams, the rush of breaking in a new video game, arguing with Rebecca, hugging his mother - he misses being  _alive._ It's time to go back to the start, to repair. 

"Mom?"

Mothers are legendary for noticing the most minute details, a shift in their children. Elaine Lewis is no exception. 

"Simon? Sweetie are you okay? You sound tired."

The boathouse is shrouded in emptiness, it's a constant reminder that he's quickly becoming the monster he once feared. His relationships are suffering, his physical health is deteriorating, he hasn't had a decent sleep since DuMort, frequently he wakes in the midst of a nightmare. He hasn't spoken to Luke in nearly a month, Clary is too preoccupied with her own problems, his own clan has shunned him, Raphael is still rightfully angry. He is drowning and only has himself to blame.

"...can I come home?"

Elaine tears up and loosens her hold on a bottle of Gray Goose. "Oh, monkey. The door is always open for you." 

Simon begins to pack his meager belongings in the army green bag Raphael had once tossed at him. He tries very hard not to think about snatching it up with Camille at his heels, racing through a hall he'd peacefully passed through many times before, the pain of betrayal on Raphael's face. He should replace it yet he cannot bring himself to. It's a part of him, a solemn reminder of why he needs to fix himself.  

"I love you, mom."

Elaine brews a fresh pot of coffee, strong. "I love you so much, Simon."

 

_Step one: Love and protect her, apologize._

 

* * *

  **[LUKE]**

* * *

 

The wolves growl when he approaches, head bowed. He'd abandoned their pack leader when he'd needed Simon the most. Losing Jocelyn had made Luke lose his grip on reality because that's what grief does. It hollows a person from the inside out and makes them rip and claw at anything that will numb the pain. When Luke grieved, he'd surrounded himself with his pack and they'd carried him through it. 

That should've been me, Simon thought.

The wolves encircle him as if he were a beacon of selfishness. They are not wrong. He forces his voice to come out steady yet compassionate. He is here to mend fences, not set fire to what remains. "I need to see him."

A beautiful girl with dark skin and glowing green eyes steps forward, growling. "He has no need of you,  _vampire._ " 

He deserves their spite and venom, he does. "Look I'm...for what it's worth and I'm sure that's not much...I'm sorry. Please." For a moment, the pack says nothing. The girl stares him down to put him in his place. It's a hostile reminder that the ground he walks on is theirs, not his. He is nothing. 

But they are not monsters.

"Eliza, Gabriel. Go with him," she orders. 

"Thank you, I can't-"

There's a fire in her eyes that Simon recognizes. His reflection had shown him the same, what feels like forever ago. "I'm doing it for  _him_. Not  _you,"_  she spits. Luke is loved and cherished, Simon feels like a heel. 

**+**

 

There are lines under Luke's eyes that weren't there the last time they spoke. When he holds Simon in his arms, the hug is drawn out and intense. His fingers dig into the fabric of Simon's jacket and a wave of guilt washes over him. 

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, burying his head in the pack leaders chest. How many times had he walked through these doors to dump his problems on shoulders that were already carrying too much? Luke Garroway is practically a second father and he is the estranged son shamefully begging for forgiveness. He almost wishes for biting stinging words, a reason to flee. 

"For what?"

Luke Garroway is a good man. He does not hold grudges. His religion is simple: love and be loved, forgive often.

Simon melts against him, desperate for an anchor. "Jocelyn, not checking on you, missing her funeral." 

The pack leader rests his chin on the crown of Simon's head and blinks back tears. "Don't apologize," he murmurs. Apologies imply wrongdoing and in Luke's eyes, Simon is still a nervous little boy who has been stumbling into trouble from the get go. Simon and Clary are and always will be family. 

Minutes pass with nothing more than the soothing beat of Luke's heart and the quiet bustle of the restaurant. When they break apart, Simon's eyes are pink with tears but he feels love - pure as a river. 

"Hungry? I'm afraid I'm fresh out of blood," Luke teases with a weak smile. "Can I interest you in moo shoo pork?"

Simon fidgets with a packet of sugar and a ghost within grouses, _I hate fidgeting. Why won't you sit?_ He closes his eyes against the pain, willing the ghost to haunt him no more.  "No thank you. How- how have you been lately?" 

With downcast eyes Luke confesses, "I've been better." His shoulders sag and for the first time, Simon notices the rips along his flannel. It's easier to face your present when you're something else entirely, Simon thought. He should know - he has been in a constant state of defense since being reborn. Most days, he avoids mirrors. If his mother notices, she does not call attention to it. 

"Hey- um. Would you wanna come over for dinner? At mom's? Becca's coming in and there's a new recipe she wants to try that I can't eat, so..." 

Luke brightens. "I'd like that." 

 

_Step two: Love him, apologize, visit, support him._

 

* * *

  **[MAGNUS]**

* * *

 

Magnus is next on the list. 

 

The black lacquered door swings open before his knuckles hit, welcoming. A familiar landscape comes into view with it's warm lighting and stylish decor - the clean scent of his friend is easy to follow. He tracks it around the corner and into a nearly sterile kitchen. 

"Hi," he says, leaning against the wall. 

"This is an unexpected surprise," Magnus replied. Seems to be a lot of those when it comes to me, Simon thought.

"Is it?" 

He and Magnus are not close pals but they've had their moments. This year has been rough for the warlock and as far as Simon is concerned, 2017 can shove off. G-d he's tired of being in a perpetual crisis, it's draining. 

Magnus taps his chin, staring off into the distance. "It's been around four weeks since you were here last."

Simon cringes, recalling he and Raphael's bitter feud in his friend's home. The blood, Magnus' cocktail, the confusing buzzing in his veins over a hand holding his own, hissing and pent up past wrongdoings. He'd royally screwed up that night. 

"I promise to keep my fangs where they belong this time," he joked. He smiles and it feels like swallowing glass one splintered fragment at a time. He's genuinely happy to see a familiar (friendly) face but it's hard to be at the loft. 

Magnus arches a brow, shooting Simon his best _That was a bad joke_ expression. "We talked about this, darling. If you bite or hiss in my home again I reserve the right to feed you martini's until you behave and I have _a lot_ of vodka on hand."

Simon cracks a grin and holds his hands up in surrender. "Noted." 

"Now that we've got that out of the way, come. Sit."

**+**

 

Magnus' sofa is purely for aesthetic purposes and Simon's back and ass pay for it. Unlike the other man, he values comfort over appearance but then again he  _had_ been living out his days in a glorified shed. 

The warlock waggles a finger at him back and forth. Even his hand gestures are full of the bright vivid energy that is Magnus Bane. "Mmm-mm. Move to the chair, cupcake."

Simon obeys, sinking into a soft armchair. "I never thanked you."

Magnus sips his martini and settles into the opposite chair, legs crossed. "For?"

"That night. Y'know with the," he forms claws with his hands. "And the hissing and the...Raphael." His clumsy tongue nearly trips over the name and he wants to repeat it until it tastes like home again, until Raphael is his home again. 

Magnus waves it off, unbothered. "Oh sweetheart, I'm older than your great grandmother's grandmother. I've broken up more fights than I can count. Tesla and Edison? Ugh," he groans dramatically. "You can imagine how difficult  _that_ was. Fire and gasoline, those two." 

The young vampire laughs at the visual. Happiness bubbles up in his chest and  _yes._ This is a feeling he can remember. "Which one invented the lightbulb again?"

Magnus clutches his chest and rolls his eyes. "Don't get me started."

They speak for hours and Simon allows himself to open like a flower reaching for sunlight. He apologizes so many times that Magnus threatens to throw him out. They discuss the tangled spider web that is Simon's still brand new life and Magnus shares his past. When they finish he realizes he'd vastly underestimated his friend and somehow managed to convince himself that the sassy warlock had never felt human pain. 

 _Idiota,_ says the ghost. 

Simon does not disagree.

 

_Step three: appreciate the magic that is Magnus Bane._

 

* * *

  **[RAPHAEL]**  

* * *

 

Raphael is the final name on his list and the most difficult by far. How do you beg your way back when  _you're_ the ruin? How the hell can he love the man without breaking him? G-d it's a talent he never wanted. I know who I am, he wants to say. I know I love you, I'm sorry I never said it.

I've always meant to on some conscious level. 

**+**

 

They're protecting him from Simon. 

Lily bares her fangs and threatens to end him if he moves one more inch toward the hotel. The crimson building looms nearby like a throbbing open wound, a heart sliced down the middle. 

"Lily," he pleads. When he betrayed Raphael, he lost an entire family. She'd been his passive aggressive poker buddy on Thursday mornings when neither of them could sleep. After the second time it became a newly christened tradition. Not only that but she'd had his back when he and Raphael argued over a stupid senseless matter. They're on opposite sides of the fight now and he wants to sob.

"GO," she hisses. Her dark eyes are cold and devoid of sentiment, fangs bared. He'd made her smile a handful of times though she'd adamantly denied it after but that mouth is twisted and angry now. 

"Sorry," he mumbles. He turns his back on them then, tugging his jacket sleeves over his knuckles for a semblance of warmth. The clan doesn't have to accept his apology but it hurts to know it means absolutely nothing to them.

He took exactly sixteen steps when a voice he'd know anywhere gave him pause. 

**+**

 

Raphael raced forward, tapping him on the arm lightning quick to turn the fledgling around. Stupidly, Simon wishes he'd throw him up against a building, yell at him, growl and hiss. Maybe then seeing him wouldn't feel like falling on a sword.

Anger laces Raphael's tone, making it harsh and biting. "Are you lost?"

Simon stammers, regressing back to the nervous boy he'd started out as. "I...um..." He sucks in a deep breath. "I'm a jerk, Rafe." The nickname slips from his lips casually before he can call it back. Raphael's stony facade cracks for all of two seconds and Simon can feel tears welling up in him, burning his throat. 

Raphael cocked his head to the side. "This is new information to you?"

Fuck. He should go. He's chasing an acceptance he'll never get but he had to see that face, the velvety cynical voice, his _ghost_. 

He jerks a thumb to the side even as his feet refuse to budge. "I should...um but before I go. You don't have to accept it but," his eyes burn. "...I'm sorry. I chose them and not you and you're right, I _am_ an idiot and I _do_ fidget too much. Anyway I took some time to figure things out, yk. Who I am." 

Raphael crosses his arms over his chest. "Why are you telling me this," he asked icily.

 

Simon wrapped his jacket around himself like a cocoon (self soothing, Maia calls it) and stared down at his feet. He felt larger than life and microscopic at the same time, small and broken. Rallying every ounce of bravery, he said,"Because it matters."

The older vampire studies him, brows creased. Simon doesn't have to look up to know he's staring at the spot where a heart should be beating, he has a habit of that. Once upon a time he'd slept in that very spot. He'd kissed it frequently, eyes misting over in a way that Simon couldn't understand - _why?_ He gets it now.  

Simon babbles, the levies having collapsed. "Because I can't sleep and I look like shit and my mom still asks about you. Because Clary was what I thought I wanted and I was wrong - it was like dating my sister. She wasn't _you._  Because you do that thing you're doing." Their eyes meet, both knowing what he's referring to. G-d he knows too much about someone he cannot have, his fool of a heart doesn't want to let go. Even standing across from Raphael is a pained jolt to the cardiac region. 

"Because I kissed Maia and pictured you. Because I went home but it's not- not  _home._ I sound stupid. I love you, I'm stupid. I have to go." He moves to retreat and suddenly Raphael is blocking him with hands on his biceps. He holds the younger vampire's gaze and slides a hand across his chest to rest over Simon's heart. It's too much and he does not deserve the love of this man, the devotion. 

"You have a lot of making up to do, baby," he said softly.  

 

The tears begin to fall, staining Raphael's wine colored button up as he leans into arms that open wide for him. After he has calmed Raphael murmurs, "You  _love_ me?" His tone was doubtful, worried. Boy is that ever the understatement of the century, Simon thought. He nods, reaching out to take Raphael's hand. 

"Since when?"

Since before I ever knew your name. G-d he has to stop watching cheesy romance movies with his mom, they're rubbing off on him. Not that he wasn't a sap to begin with, he's hopeless. "Remember when you called me an idiot?"

Raphael's shoulders begin to shake with silent laughter. "Dios, Simon. You're a lost cause." 

"Yours." And there it is, no more Lifetime Movie Network. Extra cheesy, disgustingly sappy. He can't help but laugh at himself for that sorry excuse of a one liner, one word-er more so.

Raphael pulled back, face splitting into a grin. "That was terrible. Never say it again." I want to make him smile like that, Simon thought. Everyday, even after an argument when we're still throwing petty insults. 

"It was," he agrees.  

" _Dios,_ I don't know why I love you." 

Just like that-

Simon leaned in, capturing the words. When a hand buried itself in his hair and a tongue gently prodded at the seam of his lips, he tasted truth.

 

_Step four: Earn trust, don't take him for granted, love him endlessly._

 

* * *

  Three days later in a spiral notebook: _My name is Simon Lewis and we are not monsters._  

* * *

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by mono-chrome-me (tumblr) and our meta discussions/meta 
> 
>  yes lily witnessed That moment (she had to make sure simon wasn't going to hurt raphael again) and she wasn't shocked in the least. it was only a matter of time before their fledgling came running back. she won the poll actually and stan now owes her two bags of five star B+ and $10. she plays to win, don't test her.
> 
> ((if you're waiting for a prompt from me, it's coming. I promise!))


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